


Rooftop Conversations

by Artezeous



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Blush - Freeform, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Happy Ending, It’s not plagarism if I steal from myself, M/M, Mild Angst, Not Beta Read, Proofread, Skipping Meals, Yes I did steal this title from one of my other fics, blushing gundham, daily life AU, lots of comparisons using animals lol, mentions teruteru, not beta read we die like kings, rooftop, we don’t want to murder each other on an island and are normal AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artezeous/pseuds/Artezeous
Summary: Gundham is not properly equipped to deal with the complex emotions of mortals, but for you, he’ll try his best.
Relationships: Tanaka Gundham/Original Character(s), Tanaka Gundham/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 137





	Rooftop Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> Started this during a depressive episode, and the idea of Gundham awkwardly trying to comfort me cheered me up. I decided to finish it after it continuously stared at me every time I opened my notes app. Enjoy! Hope I did him justice :,)

After searching the lunchroom, the janitor’s closet, and every bathroom in the school, Gundham Tanaka finally found you where he least expected: sitting on the rooftop of Hope’s Peak Academy.

Stepping into the sunlight, Gundham held the door leading outside open with a push of his waist. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. A thin, sticky layer of sweat began to form on his cheeks.

With a tray forged of the cheapest plastics balanced on each of his forearms, Gundham rounded the stairway’s exit, each step punctuated by his boots. One tray had only a salad and half-empty juice bottle, the other carrying a pile of mouth-watering delights better suited for a gourmet restaurant rather than a school cafeteria. 

Gundham stopped. His heaving breaths from the grueling staircases of the academy morphed into a sigh of relief as he discovered you hiding in the shadow of an AC unit. Entranced by the fleeting remnants of summer in the courtyard, you failed to notice Gundham’s sudden appearance. Gundham prepared to scold you for your abrupt disappearance, yet hesitated.

Your demeanor had darkened considerably since Gundham saw you last. The familiar spark in your eyes dulled, your lips rugged into a frown. Your body oozed energy that sent chilling shivers down Gundham’s spine. Even Hiyoko’s art projects seemed lively in comparison with your current state. 

Yet, even with such a dark aura swirling around you, you never seemed so small. So fragile. 

You curled into yourself in a way that reminded Gundham of turtles, and while Gundham normally mocked the strange habits of mortals, this display only deepened his worry. Your legs pressed against your chest with your arms wrapped around them. With a clouded stare, you propped your chin on your knees and studied the swaying treetops, though Gundham had a sneaking suspicion your mind wandered beyond the academy’s landscaping.

Gundham cleared his throat.

Suddenly, your head shot up from your knees with a jolt, panic flashing in your eyes as they met Gundham’s. To see his only friend so mortified to be caught in such a vulnerable position made Gundham’s heart ache with an unfamiliar throb of choking emotion. Your body tensed as you stared at Gundham, awaiting his booming voice.

But Gundham did not force you to your feet.

He did not yell. 

Instead, he asked, “May I sit?”

Too startled to speak, you answered with a slow nod.

Gundham pressed his back against one of the walls encasing the stairwell. He adjusted his scarf, though made no attempts to remove it. Once situated beside you, Gundham set the tray stacked with food between the two of you, the other resting in his lap. He wiped the shining sweat from his face with a swipe of the end of his scarf. 

You turned your gaze back towards the courtyard, though it became difficult to focus with the sweet aroma of Teruteru’s cooking floating towards you. You stifled a groan, burying your face into your knees as you fought the urge to stare. Surely, Gundham wouldn’t be eating _two_ lunches, would he? Not when he can barely finish a bowl of cereal!

The joy that surged through you when he nudged the tray away was immeasurable.

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” Gundham warned. “Humans require a minimum of three meals a day. Moreover, such behavior is. . . unlike you.”

Your eyes darted back and forth, alternating between the tray and Gundham, studying his frown.

“Eat,” he urged, nudging the tray once more. His voice held a softness reserved for those closest to him, primarily animals. While you often joked that _you_ must be an animal for Gundham to care so deeply for you, he never missed the opportunity to disagree. You were not an animal, or even an average mortal for that matter.

You were his singularity. Even though you didn’t understand quite what that meant, you deduced that Gundham adored you, and that was all you needed to know.

You unfolded your limbs, pulling the tray into your lap with snail-like movements. With Gundham’s piercing stare resting on you, you nibbled on your first item of food: a freshly-buttered roll. Satisfied, Gundham turned his focus to his own tray. 

Silence fell upon the rooftop, save for the occasional crunches from Gundham’s salad as he stabbed it with his fork.

There was a time in Gundham’s life where he welcomed a quiet meal. As a middle schooler, he spent many lunches away from mortals, tucked away in dark corners reading leather-bound spell books and tending to his Four Devas of Destruction. And while he would never admit it, those days lacked something that no spell or ritual could conjur.

Until you walked up to him during orientation and told him that you liked his earring. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your voice pulled Gundham away from his thoughts and back to his salad. 

“Were you worried?”

The panic that consumed him minutes ago threatened to resurface. Ever since orientation, the two of you never failed to eat meals together—breakfast, lunch, dinner. When gym class left Gundham’s stomach growling for a snack, you always managed to charm Teruteru into giving you a savory snack to share with your companion on the track field. People with dozens of friends could recover from _one_ missing from a meal, but Gundham didn’t have dozens of friends, nor did he need them. 

He had you, and you were more than enough.

Gundham chuckled. “A sorcerer as powerful as I would never worry over something so trivial.”

A smile as forced as his laugh plagued your lips as you drank from your water. “Right.” 

“But what concerns me,” Gundham hastily added, “is the dark energy surrounding you. It is a thick, swirling cloud with a foul stench. It must be expelled immediately, but I am. . . _struggling_ to locate its source. Energy such as this cannot be vanquished unless one finds its core.”

“Look no further.” You gestured from your head to your waist with a half-hearted wave, your smile souring. 

“ _You’re_ its source?” Gundham scoffed. “Preposterous. You’re merely its host.”

“A host of failure.”

“On the contrary, you’re the embodiment of success!” Gundham threw his hands into the air. “A marvel! No mortal could ever reach your levels of power and infinite wisdom! Demons ought to _quake_ at the very mention of your name!”

“Then why don’t I feel like it?” You pushed your tray aside, curling into a position similar to the one Gundham found you in. “Why do I feel. . . so useless? And so horrible?”

“Did something happen?” Gundham’s voice lowered as he edged closer. His eyes swept over your form. “Are you wounded?”

“I don’t think it was. . . _something,_ ” you tried. “I think it was a bunch of little things, and they all became one giant thing. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

As the words exited Gundham’s mouth, the chimes signaling the end of lunch echoed from the stairwell. 

“We should just get to class.” As you prepared to stand, Gundham covered your hand with his own.

“Attending class in such a fragile state is a wasted effort,” he retorted. “What good is it when you are too distracted to focus on your studies?”

While Gundham raised a valid question, all you could do was stare at his hand as your face heated. Gundham, who was far too concerned with you to notice, followed your gaze. In a panic, he tore his hand from yours with so much force that he fell backward, landing on his back. Panicking, his Four Devas of Destruction fled his scarf and scampered to his chest.

Gundham’s mind blanked. 

Only when he heard laughter did he raise his head. Laughter poured from you in an uncontrollable fit, expelling your dark energy to an unknown plane. Had you been anyone else, Gundham’s blood would boil at the disrespect—the _ego_ a mortal must have to laugh at _him._

Yet, when Gundham saw your smile, all was forgiven. 

Propping himself onto his elbows, Gundham watched you as your laughs evolved into snorts. Your hand flew to your mouth, but slivers of your smile shined through the gaps between your fingers. An unfamiliar heat rushed to Gundham’s cheeks and ears, causing him to pull his scarf towards his nose. His heart hammered in his chest with the intensity of galloping horses.

Was Gundham _embarrassed?_

When your laughter subsided, you smiled down at him, propping yourself up with your hands. Strands of hair brushed across your face. “Are you okay?”

Gundham sputtered. Whether by the heat of his scarf or the burning sensation on his cheeks, Gundham’s body boiled with suffocating heat. He cleared his throat, suddenly at a loss for words. “I’m—I’m fine.”

You stood, outstretching your hand. You hoisted Gundham onto his feet, causing his sputtering to worsen as he stumbled into you. His hamsters scampered back into his scarf. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” he choked, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips. He swallowed.

Without warning, you pressed the back of your hand against his forehead, frowning. “I don’t know. Maybe we should get your temperature checked.”

Abandoning your lunch, you took Gundham’s wrist and pulled him to the roof’s exit, descending down the stairwell. 

“Wait!” Gundham called, stumbling behind you. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry! I’m feeling much better now, thanks to you.” 

Gundham grasped the rusting railing in a poor attempt to maintain his balance, flustering.To Gundham’s delight, the energy swirling around you flared towards the top of the staircase, vanishing into nothing. His heart pounded in his throat as you rushed down the stairs, everything around him washing away as Gundham kept his eyes trained on you. 

As the two of you marched down the corridor leading to the school nurse, Gundham glanced down to discover your hand was no longer gripping his wrist. Instead, it rested securely in his palm with a gentle squeeze. 

And Gundham squeezed back. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
